


booger to the rescue

by hi_hello_hey_there



Series: you don't have to say i love you (to say i love you) [6]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: (more specifically his dad), Gen, How Do I Tag, Reggie Has Bad Parents (Julie and The Phantoms), late night phone call, the boys love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27201995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hi_hello_hey_there/pseuds/hi_hello_hey_there
Summary: "Stay there. I'm coming to get you."
Relationships: Alex & Luke Patterson & Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms), Alex & Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms), Luke Patterson & Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms)
Series: you don't have to say i love you (to say i love you) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942267
Comments: 11
Kudos: 242





	booger to the rescue

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by: thek9kid! Thanks for requesting!  
> Beta read by: Cassie! You can check her out on tumblr at her main account [findingsofafangirl](https://findingsofafangirl.tumblr.com/) and her side account [academia-and-politics](https://academia-and-politics.tumblr.com/).
> 
>  **TRIGGER WARNING:** someone gets slapped, yelling, referenced parental neglect; please see end notes for more detailed explanation

_**Los Angeles** _

_**April 1995** _

Nights that were this quiet were worse than the loud ones in Reggie’s opinion. Usually, his parents could be heard going at each other right after his dad got home from work in the late afternoon right up to and through when one or both of them stormed out to god knows where doing god knows what and ignoring each other’s existence. It meant that, most evenings, Reggie had the house to himself to do as he pleased. He would write any stray lyrics floating around in his brain in the tiny notebook he carried around with him to show Luke at the next band practice or he would play, replay, and rework his part on the bass for whatever song they happened to be working on that week.

But quiet nights? They were the worst certifiably. It typically happened on days when his mom’s knitting group met to work on their latest project, gossip, and drink wine together or days his dad worked late. Those days always felt weird from the very beginning. Once both of his parents were home, everyone was deathly silent, and at first, Reggie had thought it was a good thing. He thought they were trying to be better.

And then his mom would start huffing in the kitchen or his dad would switch between TV channels over and over and over again, a sure sign he was getting restless. They fed off of one another’s irritation. Once Reggie caught on to what was happening, he’d try to disappear, find one of the boys or head to the studio or the pier so he wasn’t at home when everything inevitably went to shit.

Tonight was different, though. His parents’ arguments were rarely aimed at him. He was a good student and he never played loudly enough to be heard when they were home. He kept his room clean, did his share of the chores, and sometimes did meal prep for his mom. Sometimes, they shouted at each other _about_ him, saying things like “He should have a father who’s home for him to look up to, Martin!” or “That boy’s brain will turn to mush if he keeps playing that awful music, Donna!” This evening, however, not only had his dad worked late, but they had found a test he had tried to hide that he failed. Well, failed was too light a word; he had completely and utterly bombed it. Since he had never had such a bad grade before, the teacher agreed to let him retake it, and he started studying as soon as he got home.

In hindsight, he should’ve known something was wrong by the way his parents confronted him as a united front. “Reginald,” his mom began calmly. “We found something we’d like to talk about.”

Reggie looked up from his textbook, the page flapping slightly in the breeze from the open window. His mom looked concerned but his dad… his dad looked downright furious. Then his eyes fell to the test paper in his dad’s hand, the bright red F glaring at him from across the room. “I can explain-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” His dad was deathly calm as he approached Reggie. The scent of alcohol wafting off him was clue enough that the softness in his voice wouldn’t last. “It’s that damn music, isn’t it? No self-respecting man ever got anywhere by playing music.” Reggie held his tongue but so desperately wanted to point out that his dad’s favorite singer was a man. “You are grounded, you hear me? That means no phone or TV privileges, no music, no band, _nothing_ ‘cept studying for two weeks. Are we clear?”

As his dad got louder and louder, Reggie shrank further and further in on himself until he no longer could see anything but the floor beneath his sneakers. He wanted to argue how unfair his dad was being but he knew better than to talk back. All that came out was a quiet “Yes.”

“What was that, son? Look at me when you’re talking.”

Reggie squeezed his eyes shut, willing the telltale tightening of his throat away. If his dad saw him crying, something worse than grounding would be on the way. After a moment, he looked up at his dad and said, “Yes, sir.” They locked eyes, his father almost challenging him to say anything else.

When he was satisfied, he snorted in disgust and balled up the paper in his hands, throwing it at Reggie’s desk. “Pathetic, worthless boy,” he spat out.

“Martin!” his mother scolded. And Reggie couldn't help the traitorous whimper that came out of his mouth.

His dad whirled around on his heel, fury plain on his face. He raised his hand and shouted, “You want to cry? I’ll fucking give you something to cry about, boy!” A resounding slap echoed through the room and Reggie’s vision swam. His mother chose this moment to grab onto her husband just as he was getting ready to deliver another blow.

“Don’t you touch my son!” she cried, struggling to keep the man away from Reggie. He took her distraction as the time to pull the screen on his window up and tumbled out onto the soft beachgrass directly beneath it, thanking the stars above that their house was only one level. He couldn’t see through the blur of tears and the blood was rushing in his ears so he considered it a miracle he even found his bike in the dark, much less that he climbed on and started pedaling away from the ocean.

And that’s where Reggie finds himself now, taking turns at random and wiping viciously at his face. He can’t think, can’t see, can’t _breathe_ . He doesn’t know how long he’s been biking when his legs start to burn. _Keep going_ , he tells himself in his panic, _just keep going_. He pedals and pedals, passing by houses and trees, mailboxes and flower bushes, until he doesn’t recognize where he is. Up ahead and to the left, there are lights so Reggie puts on a burst of speed, ignoring his leg muscles screaming at him to stop.

He practically falls off the bike when he reaches them, astounded that he’s found a 24-hour convenience store and that the parking lot is, blissfully, empty. He drags the bike out of the main thoroughfare of the lot and plops down on the sidewalk outside the building. A terrible sound crawls its way out of his throat, a cross between a sob and a scream, and once that one is out, he can’t stop. His lament fills the still night air and drowns out the chirps of the crickets and the distant cries of gulls.

He loses track of time. It could be ten o’clock, it could be midnight, it could be later, but eventually his wailing peters out, turning to tears cascading down his face and then just sniffles. He sits there on the sidewalk, knees drawn up to his chin and wipes at his cheeks, desperate to get rid of the drying tear tracks on them. This is when he spots the phone booth at the edge of the property. He scrambles off the ground, abandoning his bike and hoping no one steals it.

He slides the door shut behind him and takes a deep, shuddering breath to clear his head; he needs to think. He roots around in his pockets, coming up fruitless, before checking the coin return for change. He finds three dimes and a nickel, but before he inserts them into the machine, he stops for a minute. Who is he going to call? None of his blood relatives live close enough and he doesn’t even know where he’s at or what time of the night it is. Bobby is out of town for the next few days for some wedding or something and Alex is staying with Luke after a particularly bad fight with his parents when he went to collect his things after they’d kicked him out.

 _Luke!_ That’s it. Now what’s the number? His mind blanks and he can feel the panic that got him here rear its ugly head. He takes a labored breath in through his nose. “Just think, Reg. Think.” When he thinks he’s got it, he inserts two of the dimes and the nickel and carefully types out the number, praying to whatever may be out there that it isn’t too obscenely late. The ringing in his ear makes him nervous so he counts the vulgar doodles in the booth to simultaneously focus and distract himself.

“Hello?” Reggie nearly cheers when he hears Luke’s voice.

“Luke! Thank god.” Now that he’s speaking at full volume, he can hear how gravelly his voice sounds.

“Reg? You sound awful, bud. What’s wrong?” In the background, he can make out Alex asking about him. “I’m asking.” That part isn’t directed at him.

“I- I don’t know where I am.” The confession pulls another sob out of his system. _Get it together, dude_ , he tells himself. _You can break down_ after _you tell your friends where you are in case you die tonight._ “My parents and I had a fight and I- I had to get out of there but I ended up in a place I’ve never been before. I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, okay. No need to panic. Tell me what you see.” The background noise on the other end of the line suggests that the two of them are scrambling around looking for something, but Reggie blocks it out; it’s more important he pays attention.

“I’m at a store called Marco’s Minimart. The sign is neon blue and there’s a bird painted on the front of the building. There are houses a few blocks away. I passed by them on the way here. There are some trees but there aren’t many street lights.” He looks around, desperate for something else to tell them, but there’s nothing else can describe. He’s truly in the middle of nowhere. “I don’t know what else to say.”

 **“Don’t worry. That was very helpful.”** Two car doors open and close on the other end of the line. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

“Don’t move, Reg,” Alex adds. “We’re on our way.” And then the line goes dead. Reggie hangs up the phone, leaving the spare dime in there for the next lost soul, and exits the phone booth, collapsing back onto the pavement. They had decided to leave the band van parked at Alex’s house, as his parents were the only ones who really supported their music. After they told their son to leave, though, the van moved to the Pattersons’ driveway. Focusing on something else helps keep the building hysteria at bay, so he thinks about the van some more.

It’s a shitty piece of junk, paid for with the combined earnings of gigs, summer jobs, lawn mowings, sidewalk shovelings, birthdays, Christmases, Hanukkahs, and pocket money they didn’t immediately need. The rusting green color of the peeling paint earned it the nickname Booger, lovingly given to it by one of the kids whose parents had paid for the band to play at a birthday party. They’d bought it after Luke finally got his license. Bobby had gotten his first, as he was the second oldest, followed by Alex and Reggie. Luke technically is the oldest, but he waited so long to get his permit that the others had already been driving for months by the time he was licensed.

Booger never started on the first try, never stayed cool long enough in the summer, and always smelled vaguely of cheese no matter how often the boys sprayed their respective colognes in it. But it was their van, their trusty steed, that they’d paid for with their hard-earned money. It did its job and kept them and their equipment out of the elements some nights. Anybody in a three mile radius could hear Booger coming, something, Reggie thinks, that keeps Bobby from getting in it with them after shows anymore. He just drives his _fancy, new Acura Integra_ everywhere.

Reggie’s been sitting there a while, long enough for his ass to go numb, by the time he hears the familiar _thunk-thunk-whoosh_ of the van wheezing its way down the street. It isn’t long before Booger turns into the parking lot and is thrown haphazardly into park by Luke. He rushes out of the van, barely taking the time to turn it off before he’s running towards Reggie.

“Dude! Oh my god! What happened?” Luke plops down on the ground next to him, Alex just two steps behind, struggling to refold a map. They sandwich him between them and Reggie instantly feels calmer. He slumps against Alex’s shoulder, the pure exhaustion of the evening finally catching up with him and Alex abandons the map altogether, shoving it off to the side for later. He tells them everything and by the time he’s done, Luke is seething. “I’m gonna get him one day. How _dare_ he hit you.”

Just like that, it’s as if acknowledging it breaks the spell. “Oh, ow.” Reggie brushes his fingers against his cheekbone, hissing in pain with the accompanying sting. “It didn’t hurt this bad when it happened. Damn.” He prods at it a little more, seeing how far the hurt spread. He’s sure there’ll be a bruise in the morning if there isn’t one now.

“Stop _touching_ ,” Alex instructs, gently grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand away from his cheek. “Are you okay now, though? Nothing needs immediate medical care?” Reggie just shakes his head against Alex’s shoulder. “Okay, then. Just support. Get in here, Luke.”

“Group hug!” Luke shouts, threading his arm through Reggie’s and leaning on his other side, reaching for Alex’s free hand with his own. Reggie chuckles and basks in the warmth radiating from his best friends. Alex lays his head on top of Reggie’s and hums contentedly. He hadn’t realized how cold he was after running out of his house without bothering to grab his leather jacket he’d taken off.

“Thanks guys,” he whispers, not wanting to disrupt whatever they have going on here. He doesn’t want to start crying again, but his heart has really been through the ringer today. He supposes it’s just good to know that there are people who would venture out into the unknown to get him after a bad day.

“Anytime,” Alex whispers back, Luke adding on, “Anywhere.”

Their little bubble is shattered when the store clerk steps outside and asks, “Are you guys going to buy anything?”

The guys exchange looks and Reggie starts laughing nearly uncontrollably, the ridiculousness of it all just piling up. The other two join in when the clerk shakes his head and goes back inside, the sound filling Reggie so full of light, he thinks he might burst.

**Author's Note:**

>  **About the Trigger Warning:** If any of you skipped down here to see what the warning was about, Reggie's parents confront him about a failed test. His mom doesn't really do much, but his dad yells at him and after Reggie starts crying, he slaps him across the face once. He tells the boys about it when they come to find him.
> 
> This particular story sent me into a research hole about phone booths and caller ID, of which I didn't learn much that was of use so the details on that remain vague. I'm pretty sure this is one of the few stories I have written that doesn't get split into a million little scenes so that's cool! Anywho, you can request prompts from [this list](https://p0ck3tf0x.tumblr.com/post/98502010026/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you) or send in ideas that you want me to work into a story as always. All prompts are available except 10, 12, 19, 31, 33, 37, 38, 39, 41, 44, 53, 63, 64, 65, 67, 82, 83, 86, 91, 92, 98, and 99. You can drop a comment here or send a message to either of my tumblrs (but I'm most likely to see one that goes to my main acc).
> 
> main: [hi-hello-hey-there](https://hi-hello-hey-there.tumblr.com/)  
> side: [toziers-token](https://toziers-token.tumblr.com/)
> 
> love, blue


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